The Fortune in the Fate
by forensicsfan
Summary: The loss of Vincent Nigel-Murray was evidence that fate could deliver cruel blows, but in the midst of that fate delivered something else that was on the verge of blossoming.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I didn't create them, and I don't profit from them, but I do spend entirely too much time thinking about them.

**Author's Note:** I suppose this is my nod to a post ep to The Hole in the Heart. It is dedicated to my friend ceeray3 because she's awesome.

* * *

><p>He'd gotten that son of bitch Jacob Broadsky and the poor English squintern had been sent home to be laid to rest. He'd been Broadsky's intended target, but fate had a funny way of cruelly twisting things around. Certainly he was thankful that he was alive, that Bones was alive, but the poor squintern had not deserved to die. It seemed entirely fitting that he was sitting at the Founding Fathers knocking back a few to put the glossy haze of inebriation over his mind for a little while so he could wipe out the images of the dark pool of red spreading out from underneath Vincent Nigel-Murray as he futilely applied pressure.<p>

"Are you planning on getting drunk?" There was a soft sadness in Brennan's voice as she slid onto the stool next to him and concluded very quickly that he hadn't been here very long, but long enough to have had more than the drink that was in his hand. She gestured to the bartender to bring her whatever he was having.

"Maybe." He hadn't planned on drunk, but funny thing, the longer you sat in a bar, the more likely you were to drink. He thought maybe he'd had two, but probably this was his third. No way was he going to drive home. He was either cabbing it, or maybe Bones could give him a lift unless she decided to drink a little too. The arrival of a mirror image of his drink in front of her put a check in front of the call a cab option.

"You did everything you could you know." She knew that Booth would try and beat himself up for not getting Broadsky sooner. No one could have predicted the manner in which Mr. Nigel-Murray had been killed. The lab had always been considered a refuge of safety.

"I know, Bones." He let out a sigh and glanced over at her, noticing a hint of fatigue tingeing her eyes and he wondered to himself just how much sleep she'd gotten in the last few days other than what she'd gotten in his arms the night that Vincent died.

"And with all of the evidence we have, a conviction is a near certainty." Nothing about trying cases in a court of law was ever a sure thing, but they were the best and she was confident that this was a home dunk.

He smiled softly at her and reached over and let his hand envelope hers, his thumb softly brushing across the back of it. "I know. Sometimes it's just hard. An innocent kid shouldn't have had to die. Knowing that Broadsky is facing the death penalty is something, but it doesn't really change things."

"But things between you and I have changed." Neither one of them had really articulated anything about the physical comfort they'd gotten from the other a few nights before that had allowed her to sleep, but there was no denying that something had altered things between them. Any pretense about what their true feelings were before the bullet had hit its mark had been dropped and the truth stood there in its stead.

He certainly couldn't deny it and he didn't want to either. He squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes. "You want to get out of here? Maybe take a walk?" Somehow the alcohol wasn't doing a very good job of putting a hazy cap over his brain and so maybe an attempt to clear his head with Bones in tow was a better idea.

"But I just got my drink." She hadn't touched it, but she hadn't really come to drink, she'd come to be with Booth.

"So I'll cover it." He pulled out his wallet and enough bills to cover both of their drinks. He stowed his wallet back into his pocket and let his hand envelope hers again, tugging her off the stool to follow him. He smiled when he didn't get any resistance and he gently guided her out of the bar and out onto the sidewalk where he made an impulsive turn to the left, his hand gently fused with hers as their footfalls fell into a soft cadence on the concrete.

Somehow it took a long few minutes before Booth realized that Bones had made a confession that he hadn't addressed. Not that he'd denied it, but he hadn't exactly acknowledged it either, he'd simply pulled her away from a bar and an untouched drink in favor of what up till now had been a silent walk. He glanced over at her to find that she seemed contented walking hand in hand in whatever direction they were heading in. "You getting enough sleep, Bones?"

She looked over, her expression faltering only slightly. "I've slept. It's difficult. I know that logically there is nothing that I could have done differently to save Vincent. Statistically, for him to survive that kind of injury he would have had to overcome astronomical odds."

He slowed his pace and then stopped so he could just look at her. "I'm here for you, Bones. If you need me, I'm here for you."

"As am I for you." They were partners after all, but it was readily apparent to her that they were already far more than that and even though there had been no discussion of taking that step to becoming an official couple, she could tell that they were on the verge.

They resumed their walk and found themselves strolling along the path near the reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial. The steps of the memorial seemed to beckon them to come and sit and as they sank down on them to enjoy the view that the night afforded, Brennan let her head rest against his shoulder. The silence was comfortable but weighty as if there was something hanging out in the air in front of them challenging them to speak it out loud.

"What does being partners mean to you?" She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. She wasn't sure what she expected his answer to be, but she certainly didn't expect the smoldering gaze that made her feel as if her metaphoric heart was melting into a puddle of gelatinous goo.

"Bones, I really want to kiss you, but I'm not sure if that would freak you out, so I just want to tell you that I don't want this to be just about working together anymore." He couldn't overlook taking her into his bed and expect that things wouldn't change. That night of just holding her closely had crystallized for him that he needed to let go of his anger and be willing to open up his heart to the woman who was already living in it.

"We've kissed before." While it was a true statement, the context of those other kisses did not have the power to push them over the edge of a precipice that they had carefully been dancing along for years. No, this kiss would mark a beginning of a together that she wasn't certain they would ever actually be ready for unless they dived in.

"This is different." Oh, how different it was. He let out a sigh and looked out at the Washington Monument watching itself in the reflecting pool.

"I understand, Booth. This is about love and you and me. I get that." She was content where they were and she would be content until he'd let go of the last vestiges of his anger.

He looked back over at her, squeezing her hand and realizing that he'd been holding it since they'd left the Founding Fathers. "I don't want to rush you if you still need to hold onto some of your imperviousness."

"Thank you." She wasn't sure she was ready to dive in and she was glad that he was giving her time to sort it out.

"I'm not really angry anymore, Bones. Not much anyway." The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a self depreciating smirk. They were close, he could feel it, but it wasn't quite time.

"That's good to know." She smiled and rested her head back on his shoulder again, looking at the way their hands were still joined and thinking that they were so very close. She just needed some time.

_**The End**_


End file.
